1. Cultural studies


    Date: 3/3/2020, Categories: Lesbian Author: SirSpewalot, Source: LushStories

    Laura’s lust for Korean women started the first weekend of her junior year in college. The concert, a recital by two Korean music students who had graduated the year before, had an excellent program: Beethoven’s Third Sonata, Debussy’s Sonata, and some Schumann and Telemann. When they came out on stage, Laura felt as if she had been struck in the chest—the pianist was dressed in blue, the cellist in green, and their lithe figures and stylish dresses pulled her eyes to them and made them dance from one to the other. It was the music that stole her, though. Their musicianship was impeccable. As they gave a performance of the Beethoven that was as good as most that Laura had heard on discs, she stared with fascination and then longing at the tan skin above the shimmering green behind the mahogany of the cello, then up to her fiery eyes and perfectly done jet-black hair, then over to the slightly darker tan above the vivid blue shining out against the lacquered black of the piano, so similar to the black of the pianist’s hair. She watched as they communicated with eyes and slight gestures to coordinate perfect playing and wondered what it would be like to have such a partner. She continued staring at them after the last note died out and was surprised to find herself wishing their dresses had been looser when they bowed at the end. That night she fantasized both of them were watching her as she rubbed off, and as she climaxed she cried out loudly, which she had never done ...
    ... before. Over the next week, in her mind, they sat closer to her as she masturbated, and the next weekend she fantasized that they helped her out, each caressing a breast as she worked herself raw. Afterwards, she lay there shocked and shaken, guilty as feeling such an attraction—but she continued fantasizing the same thing for another week. A week later, after finally imagining that her fingers were theirs, she lay awake facing the facts. I never did much like boys , she thought. Immature and smelly, and much more fascinated by their own cocks than I was. Grab my tits for three minutes, shove their tongues down my throat and not other places, and pump away for twenty seconds before filling the condoms that—thank the Lord!—didn’t have holes in them. I never thought about girls that way though. But they were so beautiful and talented and cultured…Well, so be it then . Over the next couple of months she indulged her fascination with pretty Korean women, staring at glossy ads in magazines and watching actresses dressed to the nines on videos she would find online, wondering how women with such poise and elegance could bring themselves to lower their hair long enough to reproduce—and more than that, how anyone could make enough of an impression on them that they’d gladly do so. A short series of modern Korean films that she lucked into learning about at a nearby museum knocked that one-sided view into a cocked hat, and she repeated their erotic scenes in mental close-up for the next ...
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